


Take Care Of Me

by sweaterbarnes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Brief Pining, Clothes Sharing, Cooking, Domestic, F/F, Fluff, Hospitals, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Knife Wounds, Living Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 07:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7792993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweaterbarnes/pseuds/sweaterbarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last person Natasha expected to see at her front door was Sharon Carter, slumped against the doorframe, fist still raised as if to knock, and blood seeping through her shirt and dripping onto the concrete floor. Natasha flipped her knife out of her sleeve and glanced down both ends of the hallway before turning her attention to Sharon.</p><p>“What the hell is going on?”</p><p>“Just let me in, Nat. Please.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Care Of Me

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this turned into and whether or not the timeline even makes that much sense but I don't care. These two idiots are adorable and wouldn't leave me alone.

 ~~~~~~

The last person Natasha expected to see at her front door was Sharon Carter, slumped against the doorframe, fist still raised as if to knock, and blood seeping through her shirt and dripping onto the concrete floor. Natasha flipped her knife out of her sleeve and glanced down both ends of the hallway before turning her attention to Sharon.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Just let me in, Nat. Please.”

Natasha reached out, slung Sharon’s arm over her shoulder, and dragged her inside, kicking the door shut behind them. They made their way to the couch and Natasha lowered her onto the cushions. Sharon hissed at being jostled and batted Natasha’s hands away when she tried to lift her shirt to find what was bleeding.

“Just get me the med kit and a towel and I can handle it myself, don’t fuss.”

“I’m not fussing, I’m worried. I haven’t seen you in a month and then, out of the blue, you show up on my doorstep covered in blood. I think that counts as grounds for concern.” Natasha dug out the med kit, grabbed an armful of towels and a bowl of water, and sat next to Sharon, unpacking the section of the kit labeled ‘surgery.’

“And I appreciate it,” she pushed herself up a little and groaned in pain, “but I’ll be fine, just give me a little recovery time and I’ll be out of your hair.” Natasha cut away the blood-soaked fabric from what turned out to be a long, wide, fortunately not too deep, gash just under her ribcage and across her upper abs, wincing at Sharon’s hiss of pain when the fabric pulled at the edges of the wound. She placed some towels along the cushions and onto the floor and helped Sharon roll onto her side. Sharon twitched when Natasha poured the water over the wound to flush it out but otherwise stayed still. Once the water ran clear Natasha put the bowl aside and grabbed the suture set, opening it with a pop. Sharon protested, reaching for the needles. “I told you I can do this myself.”

“Just lay down, jesus.” Natasha shook her head, taking the needles herself and threading one of them. “Let someone take care of you for two seconds, you won’t explode.” Sharon huffed but lay back, biting down on her lip to stay quiet as Natasha started to sew up the wound. Her fingers squeezed the edge of the couch so hard it creaked under the pressure. “Just so you know, the second I see any sign of an infection you _are_ going to a hospital. I’m not equipped to handle that, there’s only so much medicine you can buy without looking too suspicious,” Natasha said conversationally, pulling the final stich through and tying it off.

“Fine.”

“Good. Now you’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on while I finish taking care of your _knife_ _wound_.”

“I was back in town for a few days and ran into an old target who is apparently a master at holding a grudge. I took him out but not before this,” she pointed at her side, “happened. I’m not a fan of hospitals, your apartment was close, and we’ve been friends long enough that I don’t think you’ll kill me in my sleep.”

“I can’t believe you sometimes. Five years we’ve known each other and you’re still as stubborn as the day we met,” Natasha muttered, putting the last pieces of tape over the big white bandage. “Alright, I’m done.”

“Thanks,” Sharon said.

“You’re welcome. How long do you think you’ll need to stay? I can’t just play nurse until this heals.”

“I’ll be fine in a day or so. Promise.”

~~~~~~

Two days later Sharon was sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping on some weird, Russian tea Natasha had forced on her: “It’s good for healing, shut up and drink it.” An old, worn hoodie of Steve’s that he’d left at Natasha’s engulfed her, covering her hands and hitting her mid-thigh. Natasha had offered one of hers but they’d quickly discovered that wouldn’t work when Sharon could barely get her arms through the sleeves, the material threatening to rip around her biceps. Underneath the hoodie was a fresh bandage, the tape pulling on her skin as she shifted in her seat. Late the night before one of the stitches ripped when she rolled over in her sleep and she’d woken up with blood staining her shirt. Again. Natasha fixed her up without complaint but Sharon had a feeling the tea that tasted like the floor of a subway train was payback.

“How are you feeling?” Natasha asked, leaning on the counter, hip cocked and hair in a messy bun, stray pieces framing her face in a surprisingly appealing way.

“Sore. Thanks for sewing me up again.”

“You’re lucky it was only one stitch and not the whole row.”

“Oh, trust me, I know.” Sharon lifted the hoodie and peeked under the bandage. “You did a great job with these though, I’m impressed.”

“I have a lot of practice,” Natasha said nonchalantly. She pointed at Sharon’s mug. “Keep drinking the tea, you need it.”

“I’m still not convinced you aren’t trying to poison me…” Sharon took another sip, screwing up her face in disgust at the taste. “Did you just empty your garbage disposal into a cup?”

“Your lack of faith in my abilities hurts, Sharon. If I was trying to poison you you’d be dead by now. Honestly.” Natasha huffed into her cup of completely normal, not disgusting coffee. Sharon rolled her eyes and threw back the last dregs of the tea, coughing at the inexplicable burn as it went down her throat.

Natasha patted her on the back and disappeared into her bedroom, cackling when Sharon shouted, “Did you put _vodka_ in this?!”

~~~~~~

“Natasha can I borrow some sweatpants?”

“Sharon you are five inches taller than me. Just how well do you think this is going to work? Did you forget the hoodie incident?” Sharon frowned down at her jeans. It’d been three days since she’d arrived and they were getting kind of disgusting.

“But I need to wash my pants!”

“Go ahead,” Natasha called from the other room where she was trying to figure out the answers to a sudoku that she had loudly announced the day before was trying to make her burn the quiz book in a fit of anger. Sharon shrugged and stripped, taking a second here and there to breathe through the pain that lanced through her side when she bent to shove the jeans down her thighs. When it passed she put a hand on the wall to balance and carefully stepped out of them, kicking them up into the air and grabbing them. The washer and dryer were right by Natasha’s bedroom and she dropped the jeans into the washer then stepped in the bedroom, clad in only her underwear and Steve’s oversized hoodie.

“Do you have anything dark that needs to be washed too?”

“It’s all in the basket but you don’t have to do that, I’ll get it later,” Natasha said, staring down at the Sudoku and writing frantically. When she looked up her pencil came to an abrupt halt, tearing the page a little, and she stared wide-eyed at Sharon.

“What? You said you didn’t care if I washed my pants and I can’t fit into any of your clothes. This was my only option.” Sharon looked down at herself and frowned. “I don’t think the underwear’s that ugly.”

“It’s, um, fine.” Natasha cleared her throat and pointed over at the closet. “The laundry’s over there.” Her voice was oddly high and a light blush painted her cheeks. Sharon stumbled a little at how it stood out on her pale skin, emphasizing a light spray of freckles she hadn’t noticed before. They stared at each other in awkward, tense silence until Sharon grabbed the laundry basket and made a break for it. She set it down and leaned against the wall. Her heart was beating double-time, and she tried to distract herself with the laundry.

It didn’t work.

For the rest of the day she couldn’t get the image of Natasha’s blush out of her head, her own cheeks warming at the thought of it.  A little thrill ran through her when she remembered she’d inspired someone to look like that. And, hey, a blush suited Natasha well. She hadn’t noticed that before.

~~~~~~

Living in such close quarters for so long was making them go a little stir crazy. Finally, after Sharon had read the last of Natasha’s magazines and sighed dramatically for the third time Natasha announced that they were going to the store goddammit.

“Do you want the bananas or the oranges?”

“You pick, I don’t care,” Natasha said, examining the shelves of canned soup and boxed pasta. The flickering lights in the shitty corner store meant she had to squint to get a good look at the ingredients list.

“Both, then.” Sharon tossed them into the cart along with apples, carrots, and multiple bags of salad. “Stay here, I’m going to get a few more things.”

“Why do we need all this stuff? I have food, you know,” Natasha complained.

“You have almost five boxes of macaroni and cheese in your cupboard and almost nothing green in the fridge.” Sharon pointedly dropped a bag of assorted chopped peppers into the cart and then an armful of vegetables Natasha couldn’t identify. “This my way of thanking you for sewing me up.”

“But-”

“I’ll stir the pot with you if I have to but you are going to have a healthy meal so help me god.” Natasha sighed heavily but it didn’t slip Sharon’s notice that a bag of potatoes somehow made its way into their cart.

~~~~~~

Mission Feed Natasha was a success and she only complained twice during the cooking process.

“The frozen stuff only takes ten minutes and we’ve been here for thirty. This is ridiculous.”

“This tastes better, hand me the carrots.” Natasha grumbled but passed the bag over.

The resulting stew was not Sharon’s best but Natasha seemed satisfied, making pleased noises as she chewed. Sharon watched her with a smirk.

“So?”

Natasha huffed and took a sip of beer, muttering something into the bottle.

“What was that?”

“I said you were right, don’t get used to it.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” Sharon said, grinning as she gathered their plates. Natasha smiled back and handed Sharon her bottle. Their fingers brushed as Sharon took it and Natasha let her fingers linger along Sharon’s before dropping her hand.

“Thanks for the food.”

~~~~~~

 “That’s the last stich out and you’re good to go. Don’t go busting any drug cartels for a few more days but a few thugs here and there shouldn’t be a problem.” Natasha tossed the mess of stitches and bandages into a sealed bag labeled “hazardous” and threw that into the trash. Sharon stretched and groaned happily.

“I missed being able to do that.” Natasha chuckled fondly at her.

“You should get going. I have a mission coming up in a day or so and I need to get ready. The Middle East means a knife sharpening session is in order.” Her eyes took on a pleased glint at the idea.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” Sharon hesitated before kissing her on the cheek. “Thanks again, Nat.” Natasha pressed her hand against her cheek, her lips curving in a small, soft smile as she watched her walk out, Steve’s hoodie still hanging down past her fingertips and a stolen pair of Natasha’s sweatpants leaving her ankle and part of her calf exposed. She looked ridiculous. Natasha loved it.

~~~~~~

Natasha’s mission was moved up and not all of her knives were sharpened before she left. Maybe she should have taken that as a sign.

~~~~~~

Turns out bombs hurt like a bitch, even when you’re almost out of the blast zone.

~~~~~~

A horribly familiar beeping woke Natasha. Her eyelids felt like they were glued shut and she had to force them open, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and looking over to where the visitor’s chair always was. No matter how many times she stayed at the hospital one thing never changed: the shitty, uncomfortable chairs the staff forced on anyone who wanted to see patients.

Sharon was sat, leaning her elbow on one arm of the chair, glaring at Natasha.

“Um. Hi.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Nat. You know that. A complete and utter moron.” Natasha just watched her from where she lay. “A bomb squad was on the way. If you had just waited for _thirty more seconds_ you would’ve been fine. They never would have started the timer and we wouldn’t be in this situation. Do you even know how many pieces of shrapnel they pulled from your back?”

“Three?”

“Six. **_SIX_**.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re damn right you’re sorry. You could have died!”

“Sharon?”

“What.”

“You’re crying.”

“Oh, fuck.” Sharon angrily wiped a hand under her eyes, sniffing. Natasha reached out and took hold of her hand, stroking her thumb along the back. When she really looked at Sharon she could see the dark circles under her eyes and how her hair sat flat along her head and was pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, all volume lost to sleeping in a hospital chair for days without a good shower. “I didn’t want to be in this situation, you’re not supposed to get hurt,” Sharon said, voice rough.

“I mean, on the bright side, I’m _not_ dead.” Natasha tried for an encouraging smile even though she knew she looked like something the cat dragged in and sat on.  Sharon rolled her eyes and slapped Natasha’s hand, huffing wetly.

“Stop talking.” She leaned in and pressed her forehead to Natasha’s, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’ve never been good with hospitals and here you go making me stay in one for three days straight.”

“Exposure therapy. Works wonders,” Natasha whispered, tilting her chin up and capturing Sharon’s mouth in a kiss. Sharon melted into it and held Natasha’s hand in an iron grip. She was still crying but that didn’t matter. The building could be on fire and Natasha wouldn’t care as long as Sharon kept kissing her.

~~~~~~

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciated!<3<3
> 
> Stalk me on [Tumblr](http://wolfbarnes.tumblr.com/).


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